Hitter, Hacker, Grifter, Thief, (Mastermind)
by Mellpen00
Summary: Fluff, drama, angst, humor, you can find it all here. This is a group of highly diverse one-shots with chapters based on a list of prompts I found on Pinterest. Features all characters. No slash, smut, or swears. On hiatus. Ch 6 - I Messed Up, Ch 7 - Earbud, Ch 8 - Sport, Ch 9 - Bunny
1. Binary

**A/N:** Hello everyone! This is my first time writing for _Leverage_ , and I don't know why! I love the show and have watched it through at least three times. I was looking through Pinterest and found some one-word/one-phrase prompt lists, and the first word immediately caught my eye. This is a short one-shot based off the prompt word "binary". I want to work through the whole list eventually, so either I'll publish the stories individually as I write them or turn this story into a collection. I hope you enjoy this, and please review!

* * *

 _ **~Binary~**_

111000010100010111101000000001… It went on. And on. And on. Rows upon rows, scrolling endlessly on the screen.

Eliot had entered Leverage HQ to find it empty. He checked the clock and, seeing that he was early for the team's scheduled meeting, sat down to watch some football. He reached for the remote that lay on the table and pressed the power button that, to his annoyance, did nothing. He slid the back cover of the remote off and checked the batteries, then put the cover back on and tried again. Still nothing. With a sigh of frustration he got up and circled around the table to get to the grid of monitors that decorated the opposite wall. He glanced behind the screen closest to him, trying to find a power button, but he didn't see anything. He searched all the exposed edges of the display, but turned up empty. With increasing irritation, he went back to his place at the table and pressed the button on the remote more aggressively. Unsurprisingly, there wasn't any response. Then it dawned on him: batteries, that's what he needed.

He went into the adjoining kitchen and rummaged around in some drawers until he found the pack of batteries. He carried it back to the table and slid the cover off of the remote only to find that the batteries he had were the wrong size. This was getting ridiculous. In a last effort to bring the television to life, Eliot grabbed Hardison's keyboard from the center of the table and glanced at it briefly before simply hitting the "enter" key.

He was rewarded by a bright flash as the monitors turned on, but the glad remark died on his lips as lines of binary code began making their way across the screen. At first it was slow, but soon it sped up, until it covered the entire display in an endless stream of numbers: 00101110111110001011101… and so on. For some reason it gave Eliot the distinct impression of something bleeding out. He stood there staring at the screen with panic rising in his chest and wondered what on earth he'd done to Hardison's computer system. His heart jumped when he heard a key scraping in the outside lock, and with professional ease he ducked into the nearest office, pressing himself to the wall just inside. He heard the familiar sound of Parker and Hardison's banter, which stopped abruptly; presumably because they had entered the main room and Hardison was seeing his computer's life blood spill across the screen. Eliot had expected a loud curse, or a frustrated groan at least, but all he heard was a laconic "Hm." and then:

"Hi Eliot!" Parker's voice sounded right by his ear and Eliot struck by instinct. Parker easily side-stepped the attack and his fist made contact with the door frame. There was the sharp crack of splintering wood, and Eliot swore loudly as he cradled his bruised hand, glaring at Parker.

"What'd you do that for?" he asked indignantly.

Parker gave the puzzled reply: "Do what?"

The pain in Eliot's hand had subsided to a dull, if irritating, throb, but his face was still contorted in an angry scowl. "You snuck up on me, that's what!" he spat irritably. Parker raised an eyebrow skeptically and then peered into the room he'd been in.

"Were you _hiding_ in there?" she asked incredulously. Hardison turned his head to see Eliot's response. Eliot's mind whirled as he considered fabrications. "No! I was– there's a light out in there and– the radiator was making a weird noise…" he was met with blank stares. "Well it's your own fault for making the tech too complicated!" he finally burst out angrily, turning abruptly on Hardison and jabbing a finger in his direction. The hacker looked taken aback, then confused.

"What?"

"Your computer thing! All I did was press a button and now it's…" Eliot gestured to the screen, "bleeding out or something!"

It took Hardison half a second to absorb what Eliot meant, but then he burst out laughing. Eliot cursed. Hardison finally stopped long enough to say: "You were worried because you thought you'd done something to my tech?" he put a hand to his heart in feigned emotion, "Really, I'm touched." He cracked a smile again and went on.

"Naw man, I left this running when we left the office, you just woke up the monitor." Eliot glowered at him and turned on his heel, storming into the room behind him and slamming the door with such force that it closed despite the splintered frame. Hardison called after him.

"I think it's really nice you care about my baby!"

Eliot growled angrily as he sat down in his office. He could hear the hacker and thief laughing on the other side of the door, but tried to tune it out as best he could. They were never going to let him live this down. He really wished they wouldn't tell Nate and Sophie, but his hopes weren't too high. He let out another frustrated sigh and turned on the radio.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you liked it. Please review :)


	2. Master

**A/N:** Hello again, I've decided to make this a collection of the stories that I come up with from the prompt list I talked about. The second word was "Master", which lead me to think of the William Ernest Henley poem "Invictus". When I read that poem I immediately think of Eliot, and thus was this born. All italicized parts (with the exception of the title) are from the aforementioned poem, and are not owned by me. Neither is _Leverage._ I hope you like it, and please review!

* * *

 _ **~Master~**_

 _Out of the night that covers me,  
Black as the pit from pole to pole,  
I thank whatever gods may be  
For my unconquerable soul. _

The night was black. It was nearly impossible to tell where to put his feet, let alone to try and keep track of which direction he was going. He could hear the shouts of the rebels behind him; hunting him, trying to exhaust him so they could find him in the darkness. Every so often there would be a round of gunshots – semi-automatic rifles – and they would light up his path in the fraction of a second before he heard the bullets ricochet off the trees behind him. His leg burned, the laceration that ran from ankle to knee screaming out in protest to his violent movements.

Harsh voices called his name, cursing it, vowing revenge and every kind of recompense, but still he ran. He ran through the underbrush and zig-zagged his way through the trees. He hurdled fallen logs and ducked through vines. He ran until the voices grew into distant shouts, and then into echoes, and until they grew silent all together. Then he collapsed, falling against the bole of a mighty jungle tree and panting. His lungs burned and his heart pounded, but he knew that he couldn't stay on the ground. After only a moment's rest, he grappled with the thick vines that hung around the tree and hauled himself up onto a branch. Once he was settled, he pulled out his hunting knife and plunged it into the bark next to him so it would be ready if he needed it. As he slipped into exhausted unconsciousness, Eliot Spencer sent up a prayer of thanks for the indomitable will to survive.

 _In the fell clutch of circumstance  
I have not winced nor cried aloud.  
Under the bludgeonings of chance  
My head is bloody, but unbowed._

Eliot's mouth filled with the familiar taste of blood as the fist met his jaw, but he recovered from the blow and turned a steely gaze back on his assailant. The man rewarded him with another punch, this time to the other side of Eliot's face. With his hands shackled behind his back and two rifles trained on him, there was little Eliot could do but continue to glare impassively at the man in front of him. The man nodded almost imperceptibly to someone that Eliot couldn't see, and the hitter felt a kick planted on the back of his right knee. That knee folded instantly, but the other one stayed firm, and Eliot managed to regain his balance. The man nodded again, and this time the guard kicked Eliot repeatedly in the backs of both knees until they buckled, forcing Eliot to kneel.

The man grabbed a fistful of Eliot's hair and forced him to look up. "Now, Spencer, are you willing to co-operate?" the man's foreign accent grated on Eliot's nerves, reminding him of Moreau. With that thought in his mind Eliot spat, staining the man's face red. It earned him a swift knee to the stomach which nearly knocked him to the ground, but he held firm and gave the man standing over him a defiant smirk.

"Is that all you got?"

 _Beyond this place of wrath and tears  
Looms but the Horror of the shade,  
And yet the menace of the years  
Finds and shall find me unafraid. _

Faced with injury every day, faced with the certainty that for him to be caught was to be killed, faced with the horror and the terror and the menace, he wasn't afraid. Whatever he went through now, he knew he'd been through worse. Whoever he came against, he knew he'd seen worse. If he had done it then – alone – why couldn't he do it now – with a team? He had brothers and sisters now, and he didn't have to just fight for himself. They looked out for him, he looked out for them, and together, they looked out for others. By himself he'd faced the worst things imaginable, and together they'd faced the worst people imaginable. How on earth could he be afraid?

 ** _It matters not how strait the gate,  
How charged with punishments the scroll,  
I am the master of my fate,  
I am the captain of my soul._**

* * *

 **A/N:** After today I hope to update this story twice a week, on Fridays and Mondays, until the list of prompts (there are 31) is done. So unless anything _really_ unexpected happens, there should be another chapter up this Friday. I hope you liked this chapter, and please review. This writer runs on reviews!

 **Next up: Storyteller**


	3. Storyteller

**A/N:** Hello all! Just a quick thank you to everyone who has reviewed, specifically to **ardnasseel** for catching an error I had made. I really appreciate that, and if anyone notices any typos, grammatical errors, or misspellings, please tell me! Really!

In other news, I've gotten a couple of requests for Parker/Hardison, and I assure you, there will be some! I've simply been writing the first thing that comes to mind when I see these prompts, and the first two struck me for Eliot. Sorry for the lack of variety so far. I promise that everyone will be making an appearance, as I love them all. :) In case you haven't noticed, I don't own _Leverage._ Please R &R! And enjoy. :)

* * *

 _ **~Storyteller~**_

"… and the Three Bears lived happily ever after. The End."

Nate looked up from the book to see three pairs of dark eyes staring blankly back at him.

"What?" he asked. The oldest child, a girl of eight by the name of Diamond (Diamond Ruby Hardison, to be exact), looked from Nate's face, to her two younger brothers, and back to Nate.

"We've never _ever_ heard _that_ story, Uncle Nate."

Nate was puzzled, "You've never heard 'Goldilocks and the Three Bears'?"

"Yes we have!" piped up the youngest boy, Will (Sophie had been given the honor of naming the boy, and had promptly given him the most British name she could think of: William Henry George).

"Just never like that," supplied Jack, the seven-year-old. (After Diamond Ruby, Eliot wanted to make sure at least one of the Hardison children wouldn't be made fun of for his name, so he gave a sensible, "normal" name)

"Yeah," continued Diamond, "You must have read it wrong."

Nate was beginning to understand. Of course Hardison (a security expert) and Parker (a thief) would editorialize on a story about the Three Bears (who had literally left their door unlocked), and Goldilocks (a thief). He imagined that the Bears would be chastised for their lack of security, and Goldilocks would be lauded for her ingenuity, but he was curious to hear the children's take on it. Leaning back in his chair, Nate questioned them.

"Well how do you think it goes?"

After what seemed like a short, wordless conference among the three of them, the children scattered throughout the room, gathering different supplies. Will came back to his bed with various costumes pieces. Jack returned with two bowls tucked under an arm, then set these on the floor briefly while he disappeared under _his_ bed. He emerged a moment later with another bowl and, to Nate's somewhat mild alarm, what looked like a tazer pistol. After a closer inspection it turned out to be a toy (albeit a very realistic one), so Nate let the boy keep it. Diamond was busy pulling a small table and some chairs in front of the window and arranging the curtains to look like a theater. Within five minutes the little group had a stage with set, props, and costumes, Nate was impressed.

(Then he remembered that his and Sophie's little girl had conned herself three ice cream cones in the park one day before they found out about it and set her straight. Of course Parker and Hardison's children would be resourceful)

Diamond stepped forward and cleared her throat, "This is the _real_ ," she gave Nate a significant look, "story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears." Jack and Will – both decked out in brown fuzzy jackets and bear ears, and each holding a bowl – took places near the small table and nodded to Diamond. Once she received this signal, she began to narrate.

"Once upon a time there were three bears." Diamond put a hand to the side of her mouth and whispered loudly to Nate, "Just pretend there are three." He nodded and she continued.

"They lived in a nice house and had lots of food to eat." The two bears sat down at the table with their bowls.

"They liked to have porridge in the morning, but it was usually too hot to eat right then." Will and Jack pantomimed eating, and then stuck their tongues out and fanned them like they were burned.

"So the bears took walks in the woods to wait for the food to cool off." The bears got up from the table and exited behind one of the curtains, then Diamond exited behind the other. A moment later Jack, who had removed his jacket and ears, stepped out and continued the narration.

"One day while the bears were out on their walk, a little girl named Goldilocks was close to the bears' house, and she smelled the porridge." Diamond, now wearing a pink, frilly princess dress and a blonde wig, came back onto the stage and sniffed; long and loud.

"Now Goldilocks was really hungry, so she followed the smell to the window of the bears' house and saw the porridge on the table. Once she made sure there was no one around," Goldilocks almost imperceptibly (though very effectively, Nate noticed) cased her surroundings, "she went to the door," Goldilocks tip-toed around to the front of the stage, "and it was unlocked!" Goldilocks feigned surprise.

"Then she went into the house and made sure nobody else was there." Nate smiled to himself as he saw Goldilocks do in miniature what he had seen Parker do countless times when casing a room during a heist. Crouching low and eyes darting here and there, she paced silently but quickly all the way around the table. Then she stopped and stood still, listening intently.

"When she was really, _really_ sure that she was alone, and had made an exit strategy, Goldilocks sat down facing the door and ate the porridge." Goldilocks did just that, eating quickly and glancing around herself the whole time.

"Then she heard someone outside! She stopped eating and got out quick." Goldilocks clambered up onto the table and then executed an impressive tuck and roll towards the back of the stage through what Nate assumed was supposed to be a back window. She rolled immediately to her feet and disappeared behind the curtain.

The play went on. The bears came back to their house and were enraged to find their food stolen. Once they had stopped rampaging around the stage, they went about plotting how to catch the thief. The little bear stayed in the house, making sure no one came back, and the big bear went to get a security system, complete with motion detectors, keypad locks, regular locks, and even lasers.

The next day the bears made their porridge and announced loudly that they were going for their walk before disappearing behind their curtain. As soon as they had gone, Goldilocks poked her head out from behind her curtain and crept to the door warily. She tried to open the door but found it locked. Goldilocks looked around, and, to Nate's (minimal) surprise, drew a lock-picking set out of her sock. Then she knelt before the door and began to work. While she was busy picking the lock, the bears sneaked up on her and the bigger one growled, making Goldilocks fall over in shock.

"What are you doing, breaking into our house?" The Big Bear snarled.

Goldilocks trembled, "I'm sorry! It's just, I was hungry, and you had so much food, I didn't think you'd mind!" The bears' faces softened immediately, and the younger one took a somewhat hesitant Goldilocks by the hand.

"If you wanted food, all you had to do was ask."

Goldilocks smiled. "Really? Thanks!" The other bear took Goldilocks' other hand, and all three went behind the curtain. After a moment they all came out again and did a stage bow. Nate was about to clap, but then Will stepped forward and said, "The moral of the story is, be generous, and then nobody has to steal. The end." The all did another bow and this time Nate did clap, though he was still a bit surprised at the abrupt ending. Before he had a chance to say anything though, the kids were busy putting the room back to the way it had been before the impromptu play.

Once they were all settled in their respective beds, Diamond looked Nate squarely in the eye and said, "That's the _real_ story, Uncle Nate. I don't know where you heard that other crazy version, but it was _wrong_."

"I suppose it must have been," Nate replied. "Did your Mom and Dad tell you that story?" Will's eyes lit up.

"Yeah! We like that one the best."

Nate nodded. "And what about that part at the end, did they tell you that too?" Jack looked at him like he was crazy.

"Of course!" Nate gave a non-committal "Hm," and then finished tucking them in. He turned out the light and said goodnight, closing the door behind him and making his way down the hallway.

When he had left Leverage Inc. nine years ago, Nate had worried that Parker might start to be like him: only able to see the worst in people, always aware of weaknesses to exploit, but what he had seen tonight put those fears to rest. Heck, now he thought she was probably better cut out for the job than he had ever been. Because if Parker could run the crew for nearly twice as long as he had, if she could take down marks and help people for nearly ten years, and if by the end of all that she could still tell her children stories about kind bears and generosity, still make them believe that there was good in the world, he knew she would be just fine.

* * *

 **A/N:** For some reason I really liked the idea of Parker and Hardison changing the ending of "Goldilocks" to better fit their worldview. Why Nate is keeping the kids, I don't know, maybe Parker and Hardison had a date night. I hope you liked it and thanks for reading! Please review. (If you review I'll be more likely to get the next one finished on time :)

 **Next up: Shadows**


	4. Shadows

**A/N:** I know, I know! I'm a day late, and I'm so sorry! I had originally thought this past weekend would be empty, with plenty of time to write, but it turned out to be just the opposite. Also, for some reason I hit a brick wall with this story and couldn't find a way to end it. I'm still not completely satisfied with it, but, _se la vie._ Again, I'm sorry for the delay, and I really hope it won't happen again. Despite my shortcomings, please review and tell me what you think. Thank you to all of you who have reviewed, especially to **Sonia. Lawson** for giving me the extra push I needed to finish this. Thanks!

P.S. I don't own _Leverage._

* * *

 _ **~Shadows~**_

"Supper's in the fridge, all you have to do is put it in the oven about twenty minutes before they want to eat, and there's ice cream in the freezer for dessert, but DO NOT under any circumstances let them have it after eight thirty or else they'll go ballistic right as you're trying to get them to bed. Speaking of which, they'll need showers, and make sure they brush their teeth. And they aren't allowed to stay up past nine, whatever they tell you. Oh! Make sure that they-"

"Hardison!" Nate put up his hands to stop the hacker from continuing, and reassured him. "I've had, and have, kids. They'll be fine." Hardison was about to add something else, but Nate interjected again. "Stop micromanaging and go have a good time with Parker." Nate looked at his watch, "Speaking of which, aren't you supposed to be meeting her in ten minutes?" Hardison looked at the clock on his phone and was shocked to see that it was already twenty minutes later than he had intended to leave. He started to say something about Will's streak of kleptomania, but Nate physically turned him around and shoved him out the front door, closing it in Hardison's face.

The hacker stood there for half a second, torn between writing the rest of the directions on a piece of paper to slip them under the door and making a beeline to go meet Parker. Rationing that, with his kids, what would happen would happen, he bolted to his car, hoping that traffic wouldn't be too bad.

He got to the park where they were supposed to meet and checked the clock on the dash. Only ten minutes late. Not too bad for having left twenty minutes behind schedule. Then he groaned. This meant that Parker had had ten whole minutes to do whatever she wanted, which, whenever he was late for something, usually meant hiding from him and making it really, _really_ difficult to find her. It didn't help that it was already dark and the only lights in the park were the small street lights by the jogging track.

Hardison got out of the car and went to look for clues. She usually left clues if she wasn't too mad at him, and he figured that ten minutes was probably forgivable. He started walking to the nearest tree, but changed course when he saw something white taped to one of the lamp posts. When he got to it he found that it was a note.

 _Look in the places that nobody knows.  
Look high above, look down below.  
Look where the you see that the light cannot go.  
Look for me here in the shadows._

A riddle. Great. Hardison sighed. At least she had given him a clue this time, that was more than she had done in the past. One time when he forgot their anniversary (he had been establishing deep, _deep_ cover aliases for the next job, ok?) she hid and didn't leave him any clues. It had taken him nearly three days to find her.

 _Ok._ Hardison thought, taking comfort in the fact that at least he hadn't forgotten something of that magnitude. _She left me a note, surely this won't be that hard…_ What was he thinking? This was _Parker_ , of course it would be hard. Hardison sighed again and examined the note.

-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-

Long, _long_ story short, Hardison followed a string of clues all around the park – climbing trees ("Parker, you _know_ I hate heights!"), falling out of said trees ("This is _why_ I hate heights."), and searching all around the playground – until he had finally had collected all the clues and strung together a word: _LION_. Now where had he seen one of those? He spun around in a circle, scanning the area, until his eyes lighted on the entrance to the park, which boasted two proud stone lions on pedestals about ten feet high. The whole area was shrouded in shadow because the two streetlights directly above the lions were burnt out.

"Finally," he muttered to himself as he made his way in that direction, but when he got to the place and looked around, he couldn't find anything. He searched every corner around the lions, and even managed to partially haul himself up onto one of them, but there still wasn't anything there.

Hardison gave a frustrated sigh. He backed up and shouted to the park in general: "Come on, Parker! Can't we just go eat?" If he had expected an answer he would have been disappointed, but he hadn't, so he just shook his head and studied the pieces of paper he had collected over the course of the hunt. Maybe he had missed something. As he was reading, something crept up behind him, and before he could react he was tackled to the ground. Hardison let out an undignified shriek as he rolled over to try and ward off his attacker, but instead of whatever he was expecting to see, when he turned himself over he met crystal blue eyes. And they were laughing at him.

"Parker!" Hardison let his head flop back on the ground as he went out of defense mode, then propped it up again to give Parker an indignant glare.

"What?" she asked, as if leaving a riddle for your husband and hiding from him when he was late was the most natural thing in the world. "You were late!" She stood up and brushed herself off, then offered Hardison a hand up. He took it and stood up slowly, beginning to pick off the leaves and dirt that had accumulated on his person over the course of the evening. To Parker's credit, she did help.

"You know," Hardison said, dusting some tree bark off of his jacket sleeve, "most people just play on their phones while they wait. Where were you even hiding?"

Parker gestured to a neighboring tree, which was at least twenty feet taller than the one Hardison had encountered (and fallen out of) earlier, and not nearly as convenient to climb. Then she turned back to him.

"Why would I want to be 'most people'?" She used air quotes for emphasis and seemed genuinely confused.

Hardison glanced from the monster of a tree to Parker's evening attire, which consisted of a floral blouse, short skirt, and four-inch heels, all of which were still in pristine condition. He simply shook his head. _Twenty pounds of crazy…_ He thought. Then he smiled. This girl was certainly crazy, but she was his crazy. He could never stay mad at her for long.

He stepped over to her and put his arms around her waist, she settled hers around his neck. He moved his face closer to hers. "You shouldn't want to be," he said, and kissed her. When they broke apart he whispered in her ear, "You're beautiful, you know that?" She laughed, and he kissed her again.

"So, dinner?" she asked when the kiss had ended. Hardison pulled out his phone and glanced at it. He grimaced when he saw the time.

"Apparently not." In answer to her questioning look, he showed her the clock, which read 6:48. "They were only going to hold our reservation until 6:30."

Parker shrugged. "I wasn't in the mood for Italian anyway."

"What _are_ you in the mood for?"

A glint came to Parker's eye. "Well, there's this art gallery about three blocks down…" Hardison gave a long-suffering sigh.

"Well, I guess it is technically your turn to pick the date," he offered her his arm. "What else are you in the mood for? Preferably food, because I'm starving." Parker took his arm and grinned.

"Pretzels."

Hardison looked at her, a grin spreading across his own face as they started walking in the direction of the art gallery.

"So," he started, "steal a painting,"

"And put it back, of course," Parker interjected matter-of-factly.

"Right. And then, pretzels?"

Parker nodded her approval and looked up at him. "The perfect date." The pair sauntered off, arm in arm, and melted into the shadows.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry, I know it's kind of short. I don't know why it gave me so much trouble. I hope you liked it anyway. Review and tell me if you did, or if you didn't! Let me know how I can improve. No, really. Please do. Thank you so much for reading!

 **Next up: Agnes**


	5. Agnes

**A/N:** Hello everyone, I'm on schedule this time! Yay! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it keeps me going. This one is pretty short, mostly because the one I have in the works for next week might take quite a bit of my time. I'll leave you to ponder what that means *maniacal laugh*. Anyhoo, this is what I have for today. I hope you like it, yada yada. Please review!

Disclaimer: I don't own _Leverage_.

* * *

 _ **~Agnes~**_

Sophie opened up the alias profile Hardison had just given her and stared at it blankly. She glanced up at Hardison – who was handing the others their profiles, then back to the paper – then up at him again.

"Um, Hardison," she started, raising her hand slightly, "this can't be right." He looked up from what he was doing and stepped back over to where she was. He glanced over her profile and then gave it back to her.

"What's the matter with it?"

Sophie seemed flustered. "But, this – it, it says that her name is Agnes."

Hardison checked the profile again. "Yup. That is what it says." This seemed to agitate Sophie further.

"No, no. I don't think you understand." She looked straight into Hardison's eyes for emphasis, "Her _name_ is _Agnes._ "

"And?" Hardison was becoming puzzled at Sophie's strange aversion to the name, and by this time the rest of the team was watching too.

"So, this isn't a mistake? You actually want to call her that?"

There was an accusation in her voice that made Hardison subconsciously question his actions. "Yes?"

"Why on earth would you name someone that?" Sophie asked incredulously.

Hardison suddenly felt that he was being attacked. "Well, we do a bunch of cons, but I want to avoid using the same name multiple times if possible-"

"But surely there's some other name you could use." Hardison was about to respond, but Eliot beat him to it.

"Sophie, what do you have against the name Agnes?"

Sophie looked at him as if he had grown two heads. "The fact that it's a simply horrid name! Just the sound of it grates on your ears. _Ag-nes_." She shuddered, and the rest of the team didn't know if it was for show, or genuinely her reaction to the name. She went on, now very obviously distracted. "It evokes pictures of crabby old women who reek of outdated perfume and want to alternatively asphyxiate you with affection or stifle you with archaic rules for 'proper young women'," she used air quotes for emphasis, "and who make really, really awful scones which they force you to eat with…" Sophie petered off as she noticed her teammates staring at her with blank expressions. She shut her mouth. There was a beat of silence, and Sophie would have sworn she could hear crickets. She cleared her throat and finished, "Point being, I don't like the name. Please change it Hardison, if you don't mind. Thank you." She got up from her seat on the couch and exited the room quickly. Three pairs of eyes watched until the door closed behind her, then swiveled immediately to Nate, who had a sort of wry grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Parker was the first to voice what they were all thinking.

"What was that all about?"

Nate cleared his throat and tried to hide his smirk, "Well, she had this aunt…"

* * *

 **A/N:** That's all folks. I hope you have a great weekend, and please leave a review!

 **Next up: I messed up.**


	6. I Messed Up

**A/N:** First I would like to point out that - if there hadn't been a technical error with the site -, in the time zone that I am in, I technically would have posted this on Monday, so I did keep my promise.  
Ok, now that we have _that_ out of the way: **I'm back!** Yay! I'm so glad to be back! I've missed you guys. Back when I posted _**Master** ,_ **ann. ryce** pointed out that is seemed like all the bits in that chapter were leading up to something, but at the end it seemed like sort of a cliff hanger, and she asked me to resolve it. I gladly accepted the challenge, so here it is. Now, I warn you, this is a two-parter, so be prepared. It was also a bear to write, so if you notice any issues, _please tell me!_ In other news, even though my schedule has calmed down a little bit, it's still kind of crazy, so I'll only be updating on Mondays now. If inspiration strikes, I may update on a Friday every now and then, but that will probably be rare. I'm sorry! Other life calls. :( Anyway, thank to all of you who have been patient with me, and to **ann. ryce** for requesting this.

Disclaimer: Ich bezitze _Leverage_ nicht.

* * *

 _ **~I Messed Up~**_

Hardison's hand hovered over the timer's start button, waiting until each member of the team was ready.

"And the timer starts…" the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place and he hit start, "now. Ok, Parker, you've got about two minutes before the alarms come back on."

Parker's voice came back over the comms. _"Piece of cake."_

Hardison switched from monitoring her progress to checking in on the others, who were all in the mark's mansion, making sure he stayed distracted. Nate and Sophie were playing leaders in an important US/UK conglomerate who were looking to increase their reach further by partnering with the mark's Brazilian company, and Eliot was working security detail. It was a cut-and-dry retrieval job, but, inevitably, as they looked into the mark they found his prints on numerous other schemes similar to the one their client had come to them about, so while Parker was gathering the client's documents from the company's off-site storehouse, Nate and Sophie were working on getting some compensation for the mark's other victims.

The con was going off without a hitch; Hardison was listening to Nate and Sophie close the deal with half his attention, while the other half of his attention was absorbed in an argument with Eliot about the NFL draft. Then Parker's voice came in over the comms, but it was breaking up.

 _"-ard-son. Har-son!"_

Hardison cut off the argument abruptly and checked the monitors.

"Parker, there's some interference with your comm, wait a second while I check it out."

 _"Th- s-one -ere,"_ her voice sounded more urgent this time, and the static was getting worse.

Hardison checked the security cameras, but, to his surprise, the room looked empty. "Parker, you're not showing on my camera feed. Are you still in the file room?"

 _"- h-ve guns, -n- - bl-ckin- m- exit,"_ her voice was lowered to a whisper. Hardison was alternately checking the cameras and Parker's earbud, trying to figure out what was interfering with it, but it all looked fine on his end. Parker tried to say something again, but by this time the signal was so bad her voice was impossibly garbled.

"Parker, I can't see you. Where are you?" Static. "Parker!" Hardison's heart plunged as he checked Parker's comm line and saw the blinking error message: OFFLINE.

By this time Nate had given some excuse and pulled away from the conversation he and Sophie had been having with the mark, and Eliot was already halfway to the nearest vehicle.

 _"Talk to us, Hardison,"_ Nate prompted over the line. _"What's happening?"_

"I don't know!" Hardison said as he frantically switched from screen to screen, trying to find Parker. "Parker's earbud just cut out, and I can't see her on any of the cameras!"

"I'm on my way to the warehouse," Eliot notified them, already speeding away from the mansion and into the jungle. "You keep trying to get a trace on her."

It took a while to get there, but about a little less than half an hour later Eliot pulled up to the facility and jumped out of the vehicle, already looking around for any trace of Parker. Tread marks crisscrossed the wet ground outside of the building.

"I got a set of tire-tracks here: standard issue U.S. military. That's what most of these guerilla armies use, so they could be anybody's. You found anything yet, Hardison?" There was a second of silence over the comms.

 _"Ok, ok,"_ Hardison's voice finally came through. _"Somehow whoever was in the file room with Parker looped the camera feed, but I found the actual footage, and –"_ he paused. Then: _"Eliot, they got Parker!"_

The other voices came over the comm line simultaneously, "What?"

 _"They carried her out with a bag over her head and drove off!"_ Hardison sounded almost frantic.

Eliot was already starting the truck when he yelled back, "Which way?"

 _"S-south, they went south!"_ Hardison finally managed. _"About fifteen minutes ago!"_

Eliot followed the tracks into the jungle, for once glad of the muddy road conditions. He continued down the track for some time without seeing anything, intermittently getting updates from Hardison, most of which were speculations on how Parker's kidnappers had gotten past him. Each time, the hacker sounded more and more tormented over the fact that Parker had gotten kidnapped on his watch. He was agonizing over yet another way that he had let the team down when Nate interrupted him.

 _"Hardison, calm down and work the problem."_

 _"Calm down?!"_ Hardison was incredulous. _"Nate, Parker has been_ kidnapped _!"_

"Yeah, and how much do you think freaking out is going to help her?" Eliot snapped. He was beginning to be concerned that he hadn't found anything yet, and the road was steadily disappearing into the undergrowth.

 _"Dude, I'm telling you, I don't know of anything I can do! Her earbud's offline, she doesn't have her phone on her, so I can't track that; I don't even know who took her!"_

"Then figure it out!"

Eliot tuned out the hacker's further ramblings as he spotted something up ahead of him; another vehicle, he decided. He slowed his truck to a stop a good distance away and turned it off, but left the keys in the ignition; he would need to get away fast if he was seen. He rummaged around in the stolen vehicle, but was disappointed to not find any weapons. He shrugged off his stiff security jacket and pulled on a more comfortable – and functional – leather one from the back seat. He got out of the truck and went to see if there was anything useful in the bed. He found a rather impressive hunting knife and a tire-iron. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing.

"I think I might have found something, I'm going to check it out."

 _"Eliot,"_ Sophie cautioned, _"be careful. We don't need you getting caught too."_

Eliot moved silently towards the vehicle he had seen, being careful to stay just far enough off the road not to be seen. Dusk was setting in, so it was getting more difficult to see, but as he peered through the trees, Eliot clocked two SUVs parked next to each other in a small clearing. He didn't see a base right away, but, from previous experience, he assumed that meant that there was a bunker.

"Hardison," Eliot said quietly, "what were the guys who took Parker driving?" Hardison rattled off a model number as Eliot crept toward the closest vehicle. He moved around to the back of the SUV, noting the empty space where a license plate would usually be. He circled around to the side and crouched, also noting the still-wet mud on the tires.

"Any plate on that?" the only response was static. "Hardison." More fuzz. He let out a frustrated sigh and reached up to adjust his comm, but then he froze. Without moving his head he looked down at his chest and saw the tell-tale red dot. So he couldn't go forward. If he moved quickly, he might be able to duck behind a vehicle and then make his way back to the truck he had stolen.

 _Click._ He heard the metallic sound of a pistol being cocked behind him. Well, so much for that plan. The man behind him spoke in Portuguese, ordering him to lower his weapon (read: tire-iron) and get on the ground. Eliot's mind was racing. He slowly raised his hands, one of which was still clutching the piece of metal, and calculated how far the person behind him was, based on the voice.

Eliot took a deep breath. _One… two… three!_ He threw the tire-iron behind him and rolled under the SUV, hearing the bullets ping off the side. He crawled out on the other side and dashed off into the trees. Almost immediately after he disappeared, angry yelling in Portuguese erupted behind him, and heavy boots crashed into the underbrush. From their yelling, Eliot gathered that they knew who he was, and what he had been known for, and they obviously thought he had come to their base to sabotage them.

They ran for fifteen minutes. Then half an hour. Then an hour. At some point during the hunt, Eliot felt his leg start to burn as sweat rolled into a cut that he wasn't quite sure when he had gotten, but still he ran on. The dusky light of the jungle soon faded and left the path pitch-black, the thick canopy of leaves overhead shutting out even the starlight.

After what felt like an eternity, the voices faded and Eliot collapsed against a tree. As he leaned there, breathing heavily, he began to process the events of the day for almost the first time. Had it really just been that morning that they had all had breakfast together? It seemed like weeks ago. He was too tired to contemplate much else, so he climbed up the bole of the tree and situated himself in a stable position, falling into exhausted unconsciousness almost immediately.

-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-

Eliot woke up the next morning in the tree and took stock of himself. The laceration on his leg was ugly, but not dangerous. What was dangerous was the fact that he had no food, and no water. If he had to guess, he would have said that he had run about fifteen miles the night before, but he couldn't even begin to guess which direction it had been in, or if it had even all been in the same one. He tried his comm, but couldn't get anything on it. Hardison was good, but Eliot knew that the even the earbuds had their limit.

After deliberating, he decided that his best bet was to try and track his way back toward the base, and from there get to the truck he had left. Once he was there he could try and get in touch with Hardison. If Parker was in that bunker like Eliot thought she was, there was no way they were getting in there without a plan.

Eliot started on his way, tracking his path back through the trees. It wasn't easy, but thankfully he had been less than careful the night before, so there were still traces where he had broken through the underbrush or left footprints in the mud.

He followed the track for the better part of the morning, and the closer he got to the base, the easier it was to see. From how trampled the ground looked, Eliot could see that quite a few men had been after him, and he was all the more thankful that he had been able to outrun them. His mouth was dry as a bone, so to distract himself, he fiddled with his comm to see if it was in range yet, but he wasn't surprised that the signal was still dead.

He was getting close enough to the base that he began to take care about how much noise he made, and he thought that he maybe saw the bunker up ahead, when something fizzled to life in his earbud. It was a brief noise, just enough for him to recognize Hardison's voice. Eliot froze. He went back a step: static. He stepped to the side: slightly more promising static. He maneuvered around, trying to find the signal, until he finally heard Sophie.

 _"- stop blaming yourself, Hardison, this was a -"_

"Hardison!" Eliot broke through.

 _"Eliot?"_ the hacker sounded uncertain. _"Is that you?"_

Eliot let loose his catchphrase, and it sounded like Hardison was about to cry.

 _"Eliot, man, I didn't know what happened to you an-and I was getting so worried. And Parker- Parker! Do you have Parker?"_

Eliot was about to say something, but then the signal fuzzed out and he felt a blow land on the back of his head. His vision blurred and went black around the edges. He fell forward on his knees and tried to twist around to see his attacker, but whoever it was brought his foot down hard on Eliot's ankle, and he heard a sickening _crunch_. At almost the same instant his arms were pulled behind him and zip-tied not once, but twice. He was then yanked to his feet and turned around. Through the still lingering haze of his head trauma, Eliot vaguely recognized the man in front of him as someone he had crossed a few years back while in Venezuela. _Fantastic._

The soldier ripped Eliot's earbud out and stomped on in with a certain amount of satisfaction. Five other gunmen emerged from the trees.

"Well, well, well, Spencer," the man said in Spanish as he took Eliot's knife and handed it to another fighter. "Looks like I'm going to get a chance to return a favor I owe you. I'm sure Cardoso will be very interested to find out what a known saboteur is doing scouting out his bunker. I think he'll have some very pressing questions for you."

As Eliot allowed himself to be pushed along (they all had guns, and he was sure there were more snipers perched in the trees), several thoughts were running through his head. One wasn't so much of a thought as it was a concentrated effort to not limp when he put his weight on his broken ankle, but the other one was simply: _Well this is going to be fun._

-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-

After the interrogation, during which Eliot hadn't answered any questions - not only because he didn't have any answers to the questions asked, but just out of the principle of the matter - his head was foggy as the guards pulled him up from the ground and half-escorted, half-dragged him to the door of a cell. The door looked like steel, solid except for two small, sliding hatches, one at eye level, and one near the floor. The first guard pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door, the bolt screeching as it slid out of place. The door ground open unwillingly, and the guards tossed Eliot into the cell.

Once the door had been shut and bolted once again, the cell was pitch-black. That was typical, though, guerrillas weren't known for their five star resorts or adequate lighting. If he had to guess, Eliot would have said he was in an 8x8 unfurnished concrete cell with no window. He probably wasn't alone either; these types of armies usually had an overabundance prisoners. He heard some muffled whimpering that confirmed his theory.

Eliot's head turned fuzzy again as he rolled himself onto his back and let out a soft groan. Based on his previous unconsciousness, and current nausea, Eliot concluded that he probably had a concussion – among other things. Those boys sure knew where to hit. He'd been through worse, though, he could handle this. He propped himself up against the wall and was about to begin assessing the rest of his injuries when he heard a voice from the other side of the cell.

"Eliot?"

Eliot nearly lunged forward in surprise, but his cracked ribs got in the way, and he ended up flopping back against the wall with a sharp hiss and a curse. Parker was by his side in a second, and he pulled her into a fierce hug with one arm, bracing his injuries with the other. Parker seemed shocked for a moment, put then she put her arms around him as well and seemed to relax. He'd been worried about her – they all had – so he expressed it the only way he knew how.

"What happened?" He asked angrily, "Your comm cuts out, and we don't hear anything from you for two days? What the heck, Parker?"

"I know, I know. I messed up," she stated simply, and Eliot could hear the regret in her voice. "I wasn't paying as much attention as I should have been, and then right after I pulled the files, these guys dressed in black came in, and they had guns, so I hid. They must have had signal jammers, or something, because the closer they got to me, the more my comm started cutting out, and then I had nowhere to hide, and they flushed me out. When they saw me there was a lot of angry shouting in Portuguese, and they put a bag over my head and knocked me out." She paused. "I dropped the files, Eliot." Parker's voice was ashamed: she had gotten herself caught, and botched the mission in the process.

"Forget about the files, Parker!" Eliot said forcefully. "What happened when they got you back here?" Parker could tell Eliot was tense. It was an unspoken rule of the Leverage team that Eliot would _end_ anyone who hurt the team. So if any of those thugs had laid a finger on her, Eliot would bust out of this cell, cracked ribs and all, and do his job.

He didn't have time to do that though, because Parker answered quickly. "Nothing. They just kind of threw me in here and then forgot about me." Eliot relaxed some, and finally let go of her. Parker took the opportunity to sit up and put her own back to the wall next to him.

"So who else is in here?" Eliot asked.

"Four other girls, all native."

"Who are they?"

"It took them a while to finally talk to me, but from what I could pick up, I think they were kidnapped like me. Well," Parker amended, "not _exactly_ like me; none of _them_ were in the middle of a heist when they got picked up."

"Human trafficking?"

"Something like that. At least one of the girls told me that her father owed a lot of money to some guy named Cardoso. Does that sound familiar to you?"

"Yeah," Eliot rubbed at one of the many bruises on his face, "I know him. He's the leading boss in this area. The bosses down here operate pretty much like the ones up in the states, except these ones have armies instead of thugs, and if you owe them, they won't just ruin you, they'll take your family."

Parker seemed to mull over this for a minute. Then: "So. How are we getting out?"

Eliot's face contorted. "What do you mean 'how are we getting out'?"

"I mean, what are we going to do so that we can get out of this cell, get these girls back to their families, and get back to Nate so we can take down Cardoso?"

"Parker, you don't just 'get out' of bunker like this! Let alone with four other unknowns! Speaking of which, do you really think they're the only ones in here? I bet there are at least half a dozen other cells just like this one full of girls like them!"

"So you think we should just leave them?" Parker accused.

"No!"

"Then what is it? It's not like you haven't broken out of places worse than this!"

"Not with four cracked ribs, a broken ankle, and a concussion, I haven't!"

Silence dropped between them. Eliot sighed and leaned his head back on the wall. He hadn't meant to come off that harsh. Besides, the guards might be able to hear them if they didn't quiet down.

"What happened?" Parker's voice was softer than it had been, and she almost sounded apologetic.

"It's not your fault," he said more quietly. "I got caught, they thought I was still in my old line of work; wanted to find out why I was here." How they had tried to find out hung in the air as an understood.

"How did you get caught in the first place?" Parker asked. Eliot sighed again and told her the short version of the story. He was just telling about his almost-conversation with Hardison, when Parker interrupted him.

"Wait, you know a spot where the comms will work?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't help much if we don't have one, does it?" Parker didn't say anything, but Eliot could hear her shuffling around like she was trying to find something.

"Aha!" she said triumphantly, and she raised her hand like she was holding something up. There was a moment of blank silence.

"Well," Eliot finally said, "what is it?"

"It's my comm!"

"You still have your earbud?!"

"Of course," Parker snorted. "The first thing you do if you get caught is hide your communications device. It doesn't work in here, but since you know where it _will_ work, now all we have to do is get out of here and go there!"

"Again, how exactly do you propose we do that?"

"I don't know, that's why I asked you!"

"Parker! You can't just-" Eliot cut off his sentence and gave a frustrated growl. He took a deep breath and let it out. Then there was a stretch of silence that Eliot finally broke. "Look, do they bring you food?"

"Yeah, they brought us something earlier today. They didn't open the door though, just slid the tray through the hatch at the bottom of the door." There was another pause.

"Ok," Eliot said. "I might – _might_ – have _part_ of a plan."

A satisfied smirk grew on Parker's face. "We can make that work."

So as evening gave way to night, and the night drew on, inside a bunker in Brazil two thieves worked to free themselves, and others.

* * *

 **A/N:** I warned you it was a two-parter! The next chapter will be up by Monday though. Please review and tell me what you thought!

 **Next up: Earbud**


	7. Earbud

**A/N:** I am so sorry that this is so late. But believe me, it wasn't for lack of trying; this is pretty much exclusively what I've been doing in between school hours for five days straight. I think this was difficult for me because a) it's very different from what I'm used to writing, and b) in the past when I've written multiple connected chapters, I've written the whole thing before I posted it, which meant if I wanted to change something in the story, I could alter the whole thing accordingly without having to worry about continuity with what I'd already put up. Suffice to say, I'm glad it's over.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and who has stuck with me through my inconsistency, it means a lot. I usually try to reply to reviews with a PM, but I can't do that in the case of guest reviewers, so to guest **Wanda** : Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it, and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own _Leverage._ (That would be too much for me to handle)

* * *

 _ **~Earbud~**_

Parker pressed her ear up against the cell door. She could just barely hear the dull thud of boots on the concrete floor, intermittently broken by the screech of metal hatches being opened and closed. It was the middle of the day, and the prisoners were being fed.

Parker swung her head towards where Eliot was sitting against the wall. "Ready?" she whispered, then heard Eliot drag himself to his feet and come to the door.

"Ready," he answered. Parker pressed her ear to the door again, and then backed away hastily as the hatch at the bottom of the door slid open. The tray of food was shoved through, but before the hatch could close again, Parker quickly slid the tray halfway back to stop the hatch. Then she tapped on the sliding plate at eye level, but nothing happened. Parker held her breath. This whole plan hung the guard opening that hatch. She tapped again, and this time the hatch opened. Parker squinted at the light, so sudden after almost two days of darkness, but tried her best to put on what she assumed was a flirty face. Her Portuguese was rusty at best, but it would have to do.

"Hey," she said in a sultry voice, "wanna let me out of here?" she batted her eyes at the guard, who snorted.

"No."

Parker kept her flirty face on. "Ok," she said. Then, with lightning speed, she punched him in the face. He stumbled back just barely, but before he could even yell, she slipped one end of her belt out through the hatch, then back in, and pulled it so that it tightened around his throat. "How about now?" Parker whispered. The guard was gasping for breath and trying to pull at the belt around his neck. She tightened the belt by a tiny bit. "Do it," she hissed. She heard the guard fumbling with his keys, and loosened the belt just enough so that he wouldn't pass out before he got the door open. In a second the door was swinging open, and as soon as the guard was reachable, Eliot clocked him in the head and he slumped: unconscious. They dragged him inside and pushed the cell door to, so that is was almost closed, but not quite.

"You got the contact codes and passwords, right?" Eliot questioned as they tied and gagged their hostage. In reply, Parker rattled off a list of names and numbers.

"And the location?"

Parker repeated the coordinates Eliot had given her for the approximation of where his comm had worked. Then she paused.

"What if they don't come?" she asked uncertainly.

Eliot answered immediately, "They will." There was another pause, and Eliot pulled Parker into a hug. "Now go," he said after a moment, and released her. Parker nodded and stepped back. Eliot handed her the guard's gun and keys; the former she stuck it in her waistband, and the latter she put in her pocket so they wouldn't make any noise. She took a deep breath as she set her hand on the door, then slipped out of the cell as silent as a shadow.

This was the most dangerous part, right as she came out and didn't know what to expect. Eliot had been able to give her some basic outlines, but he had been a bit too unconscious to be very observant. Blinking against what seemed like a harsh light to her still-adjusting eyes, Parker stood still as a statue right after she slipped through the door and scanned the corridor, counting cameras. Make that camera: there was just one. It was a rotating camera, and Parker's internal security catalogue told her what model it was, and exactly how many seconds she had before it got back to her. Without hesitating she bolted under it, only stopping when she got to the corner.

She heard footsteps and held her breath, already wishing Eliot were with her. She did have the gun, but if she used it any hope of escape would be gone. Parker exhaled silently as the sound of boots faded away down the hall, and then dared to peek around the corner.

 _"I'd slow you down if I went with you," Eliot had said. "You've got to be quick and light if you're gonna make it out of here."_

 _Quick and light. Quick and light._ Parker repeated to herself as she made her way through the bunker's corridors. She employed every evasion tactic she knew; she listened, she watched, she waited. She relied on her intuition and years of experience. She by-passed guards and hid from cameras, just barely scraping by. As she passed more personnel, and as she saw more boxes littering the hallways, Parker realized something: the base was relocating. Considering the state of things, Cardoso and everything in the bunker would be gone in less than twenty-four hours. Eliot must have really freaked them out. Parker doubled her pace and ran through the tunnels until she found what she was looking for.

Parker pressed herself up against a wall and counted until she knew the camera had circled away from her. She rushed to the door that read: MAINTAINANCE: VENTILATION, and knelt in front of it, drawing out her lock-picks. In less than a minute she had the lock, and slipped inside.

Her face split into a grin when she saw the vents. It turns out underground bunkers need a lot of air, and have big, beautiful air ducts. Parker slipped into the main vent, then hesitated. A few yards after the place where the pipe met the cooling system, it branched off into several different directions. Parker hesitated. She didn't know this ventilation system. If she crawled inside the wrong one, or took a wrong turn, this could be her long, metal coffin; with wind. The idea didn't bother her as much as it would have most people, but what made her falter was the thought of Eliot, still sitting in that cell, depending on her to get him, and others, out. She didn't know what to do.

Parker had never been religious, the survival of the fittest had always lined up more with her experience, but right then she prayed. She didn't have anything to go on. With how big and closed in the bunker was, there wasn't much in the air quality of the different ways to tell her anything. Her resources were exhausted, so now she was banking on Someone else knowing. Parker opened her eyes, expecting some great big arrow pointing one way or the other, but there wasn't anything. She sighed. She was slightly disappointed, but not surprised.

She made a quick decision and went to the first opening, but as she started to move towards it, something felt… off. She slowly backed up and went to the next opening, but she got the same feeling. She tried two more, and even got a few feet down the last one, but she just couldn't settle herself into it. Finally she backed down and stared at her choices. What was wrong with her? She was wasting time that she didn't have with her indecision. She shook her head quickly as she moved to the next to last opening and started to go down it, and this time it seemed right.

Parker crawled through the ductwork, navigating as best she could by the light which came through the other openings along the way. Eventually the metal began sloping upwards, and before long the tunnel got brighter, and Parker saw sunlight filtering through an opening just ahead. She couldn't believe it. Once she had gotten to the cover and lifted it off, she poked her head out just enough to look around, and she realized that she was pointed in the exact direction she needed to go. Parker breathed a thank you to Whoever had led her to that vent.

Eliot had told her there was a patrol, and probably cameras, so Parker pulled herself back inside the duct and recovered it, waiting. Given the perimeter of the bunker, she didn't expect it to be very long until the patrol circled around, so she busied herself with making a mental map of the base while she waited.

After she heard the guards' footsteps and conversation approach and then fade, Parker pulled the hatch aside again and crawled out, noting the security features (or lack thereof) on this side of the structure. She immediately found a blind spot in the camera network and stayed there, pressed close to the exterior of the bunker. She slipped herself off of the slope of the concrete and onto the ground, capitalizing on cover while she had it. Then, without warning, she crossed the clearing and escaped into the trees.

Once she was far enough into the forest that she couldn't see the bunker, Parker slowed, but didn't let her guard down. Still on high alert, she followed the directions Eliot had given her, and began to make her way to the communication point. She got to the approximated point and put in her earbud.

At first she only heard static, so she paced around the area, listening for any sign of signal. A few steps ahead, a quarter turn left, a tiny step backwards; nothing. Then she got an idea.

Parker craned her neck to look at the trees above her. Judging from where she was, she quickly selected the tallest one and began climbing. The higher she got, the more the static faded, until it was gone completely. Then she stopped, suspended by her arm halfway in between branches. She glanced around her quickly, making sure no one was in the immediate vicinity, and then hazarded a whisper.

"Hardison?" Nothing. Parker climbed up a couple more branches and then tried again, her whisper a little louder, "Hardison!"

 _"Parker?"_

"Hardison!" Parker breathed, and felt some stress slip away for the first time since she had left the cell.

Hardison sounded infinitely relieved as well. _"Parker! I- I didn't know what I was going to do if- and when Eliot's comm shorted out, and- are you ok? Nate! It's Parker! Where are you? Wait, never mind, I've got your location. Are you ok? Are you with Eliot?"_

Parker cut him off, "I'm fine," she heard Hardison give a sigh of relief, "and I've been with Eliot, but he's not here now."

 _"Ok, do you know where he his? We'll come get you."_ Parker heard someone say something in the background, and Hardison replied, _"She's near where Eliot called from."_ There was another mumbled something and then Parker heard Nate over the comms.

 _"Hey, Parker, nice of you to call."_

"Eliot and I got caught," she said, relieved to hear Nate's voice, but ignoring his attempt at humor. "I was able to get out, but Eliot's still in there. We're not exactly sure where the bunker is, but we think it's somewhere nea-"

 _"Parker, we know where the bunker is, and we have a plan."_ Nate paused. _"… Sort of,"_ he amended.

"I'm still pretty exposed," Parker whispered, and glanced around, "so I need to talk fast. Write this down, Hardison." Then, before either Hardison or Nate could interrupt her, she gave the pairs of names and numbers that Eliot had drilled into her head.

 _"Ok,"_ Hardison said after a brief pause, _"got it. What are they?"_

"Eliot says it's a list of his 'associates'. He says if you contact those numbers and give those names, along with a rendezvous point and time, they'll know what to do."

 _"Well,"_ she heard Hardison say after a moment, _"It's a better plan than we have."_

As soon as she had given her information and gotten a response, Parker said, "I have to sign off, I'm afraid someone will hear me."

 _"Wait!"_ Hardison broke through. _"Parker, we're coming to get you."_

Parker hesitated. More than anything she wanted to be back with the team, but she knew that for them to get close enough to the base to pick her up, they would have to risk alerting Cardoso and his men. Besides, Eliot was still in there, she couldn't leave.

"Don't," she finally blurted. "If you do that, then we'll risk the chance to bring this guy down. On my way out I found out that these guys are on a schedule to relocate. If we tip them off, they could be gone in a matter of hours, and then we'll never get a shot at them again."

Hardison sounded angry. _"What does it matter if we get a shot at them? We get you, we get Eliot, and we're out of there!"_

"We weren't the only ones in there, Hardison! We think the boss has a human trafficking ring. At this point we have a chance to bring it down, but if they leave…" Parker let it hang unfinished. "It's what we do, Hardison, we help people." Parker waited for him to reply, and when he didn't she addressed the other man on the line. "Nate?" She was asking for his confirmation.

Finally, reluctantly, Nate agreed. _"She's right."_

Before Hardison could do anything but sit there in stunned silence, Parker told them she would check in regularly until everything was set up, and she signed off. She removed her earbud and slipped it into a pocket on the inside of her sleeve, then got into a more comfortable position in the tree, and settled in to wait.

It was getting dark now. By her count it had been about eight hours since she had last talked to Eliot, and more than forty-eight since she had seen any of the others. It sure felt like longer. With the reminder of how long it had been since she had slept properly, Parker's head began to nod. Just as her chin touched her chest she jerked awake and shook her head, she couldn't fall asleep. If she fell asleep then she wouldn't be able to check in with Hardison, and Hardison wouldn't know what had happened to her. Parker shook her head again to stave off the tiredness, and tried to employ every trick she knew to stay awake, but her adrenaline was giving out, and days of being on constant alert were taking their toll. Her eyes began to droop. Finally, as a last resort, she put her comm back in her ear.

"'s it ready?" she slurred, even though she knew that it had been barely fifteen minutes since she had signed off.

 _"Not yet,"_ Hardison responded. _"I made contact, and now Nate is working something out with one of them."_

"Ok," Parker replied, not sure what else to say, "I'll check in again soon." She started to remove her earbud.

 _"Hey,"_ Hardison interrupted again. _"Uh… why don't you leave your comm in?"_ he suggested. _"That way I can just tell you when it's done."_

Parker weighed the options in her mind. On one hand, if she took out her earbud and kept checking in periodically, it would remove distractions (other than sleep, of course) so that she could focus on listening to what was around her. On the other hand, if she kept her comm in, she would have someone there to keep her awake, and to keep her company. Right now, as she sat alone in the top of a tree in the jungle, she was having a really hard time seeing the merits of the former plan.

"Ok," she agreed after deliberation. "I need to be quiet, but I'm afraid I'm going to fall asleep, could you…" she hesitated, "could you talk to me? Make sure I stay awake?"

Hardison agreed, and began to talk.

-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-

Eliot's eyes shot open as gunfire rang out in the bunker. He got to his feet as quickly as possible and went to the cell door, which was still unlatched. He pulled it open just enough to see out. There wasn't anyone in the hallway, but he could hear more clearly the shouts that echoed down it. He couldn't make out much of what was being said, but the general theme seemed to be that the bunker was being attacked. Good. That meant Parker had gotten out safely and delivered the names to Hardison. Even better, it meant that Eliot would be out of there soon.

Eliot figured it hadn't been quite twenty-four hours since Parker had left. During that time he had tried to talk to the others in the cell, but they had been even less willing to talk to him than they had to Parker, now he tried one last time, telling them that they would be out of there soon. There wasn't really anything else Eliot could do, so he settled in to wait.

Eliot hated waiting. He was good at it, but that didn't mean he liked it. He had to sit there, hearing the voices and gunfire filter in through the cracked door, and not being able to go out and join the fight. He leaned his head against the wall and tried to discern what was happening outside from the noises, but nothing stood out. That is, until an explosion shook the walls. The girls stifled screams, but Eliot was unfazed. How else were you supposed to get into a bunker? He continued to wait as the shouts got more frenzied, and then, finally, he heard different voices, ordering that weapons be dropped.

Eliot got to his feet slowly, trying to keep as much weight off of his right ankle as he could. He had laced his boot as tightly as possible, which gave more stability, if no pain relief. Eliot sighed internally. That was going to take a while to heal. Then Eliot heard footsteps running down the hall and he backed away from the door. Extending the baton he had taken from the guard, he stood ready to defend himself as the door swung open abruptly.

-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-

As soon as Eliot's recruits had cleared the way, Parker went head-first into the bunker to get Eliot and release the other prisoners. Even though she was going in a different way then she had gone out, it didn't take Parker long to find the corridor that held the rows of prison doors. She ran down the hall, all the way to the end where Eliot's cell was, and pushed open the still-unlocked door. The light fell on Eliot and he squinted, his eyes had been adjusted to the dark for so long.

"Eliot! Come on!" she said. He began to step towards the door, but before he had even put his foot down Parker crossed the room and slid an arm around him so he could lean on her.

They went a couple steps before Parker stopped again. She turned to the girls, who were still all huddled in the corner, and told them in broken Portuguese that they were free to go, and that if they went outside someone would be there to help them.

"Who came?" Eliot asked as he and Parker exited the cell.

"Everyone you had Hardison contact," Parker replied. Eliot nodded with satisfaction, he knew he had called the right people. "Nate, Sophie, and Hardison are on their way now," Parker added as she unlocked the next cell. In between going from cell to cell and releasing the prisoners, Parker told briefly about her escape, and about how quickly Eliot's friends had broken through the defenses.

"Those guys really know what they're doing."

"They should, I trained them." His voice hid a note of pride, but if Parker thought that the fact he had trained essentially a small South American army was strange, she didn't comment on it, and the pair slowly but surely made their way outside.

"Parker!" she heard a familiar voice call once they were out. She glanced quickly at Eliot, whose only response was a relieved look in his tired eyes, and a half-smirk in the direction of the voice as he lifted his arm off of Parker's shoulders. Almost before she had registered what she was doing, Parker turned and bolted towards the voice, nearly knocking Hardison to the ground when she got to him. They stood there for a while, simply holding onto one another while the others got to them.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Hardison was saying into her hair, over and over as Parker squeezed him tighter and said "me too". Eliot and the others exchanged hugs, Eliot still bracing his ribs with one arm and looking a little worse for wear, and Nate and Sophie just looking relieved. Eventually Parker and Hardison let go and greeted the others, Parker immediately going to Sophie, who wrapped her up in a tearful embrace, and then to Nate, who gave her a drier, if no less earnest, hug.

By that time, Eliot's impromptu army was loading Cardoso's goons onto transports, and a man who looked like he was in charge made his way over to the team. He and Eliot saluted each other, and then shook hands.

"You saved my life again, Garcia." Eliot said.

The man gave a dismissive wave, "You've saved mine many times, _Comandante_. How could I have done anything less?" Just as he said that, the team saw Cardoso being led out of the bunker at gun point, his hands tied behind his back, and looking none too happy. Garcia glanced from the captured mob boss back to Eliot.

"What would you like us to do with that?" he asked, indicating with a quick nod in the prisoner's direction. Eliot thought for a moment.

"He's not too popular with the local government, is he?"

Garcia laughed, "No, he is not. He basically stole all their equipment, but they couldn't do anything about it… because they had no equipment."

"Yeah, yeah, that should do nicely," Nate mused. "Turn him over to the locals. Make sure the authorities are compensated for every year he stays in prison." Garcia glanced at Eliot for confirmation. Eliot nodded, and Garcia saluted and went back to his men to give the orders.

In regards to the other prisoners, the Leverage team would make sure the girls who had families got back to them safely, or, if they didn't have family, the team would commission a trustworthy local to set up an establishment where the girls could stay until they could be independent.

Once everything was in order, or delegated to capable and trusted hands, the team started off for the airport. Parker and Eliot told their story, starting with the explanation of how Parker got caught that very first day. After they finished, Nate assured Parker and Eliot that they had been looking for them, and been on the verge of executing a poorly put-together plan (that Nate confessed was one of the worst he had ever come up with) when Parker made contact.

The whole time they were talking, Hardison sat with his head down, looking miserable. Nate was just telling how Hardison had worked all hours to find them when Parker leaned her head on the hacker's shoulder and whispered a thank you. Hardison snapped out of his gloom and looked at Parker like she had two heads.

"Thank you?" he asked incredulously. "For what? Getting you caught? Being so inadequate that you guys had to practically rescue yourselves? You would ha-"

"Thank you," Parker cut him off abruptly, "for caring." She paused. "I know I've been on this crew for a while, but it still surprises me sometimes that you guys care. And besides," now it was Parker's turn to look ashamed, "it wasn't your fault. I should have been able to tell those guys were coming. I'm trained to do that."

"And I'm trained to look at a computer screen! Now, which one of us do you think can be blamed more for not doing their job?"

Voices erupted in the vehicle as each team member tried to say that the biggest fault was theirs.

"Oi!" Sophie (who hadn't been involved in anything even remotely associated to Parker's abduction, and was just glad everyone was safe) shouted over the din, "Be quiet! All of you!" The noise died down immediately. Sophie rolled her eyes. "Look, the point is, all of us were a little bit off that day. All four of you could have been more observant, but here we are, all alive, so I think we should just drop it and make sure we do better next time. How does that sound?" She received grumbled replies.

There was mostly silence until they got on the plane that would take them home, then there was a squabble among the younger three thieves about who would get the window seat. Eventually Hardison won, and they all slid into their seats; Hardison, Parker, and Eliot in one row, and Sophie and Nate in the one in front of them. The plane had just taken off when Sophie turned around to ask Parker something, but she stopped herself. They were sleeping. Eliot's head was leaned back against the headrest and he looked rather peaceful, despite the cuts and bruises on his face and the bandaging peeking out from underneath his shirt. He had an arm thrown around Parker, who was leaning against him, while Hardison's head was on Parker's shoulder, their hands intertwined. Sophie smiled to herself and nudged Nate, which elicited a snore from his general direction. Sophie's smile broadened as she pulled out her phone and snapped photos of the sleepers before curling up next to Nate and following suit.

Those pictures would make good blackmail.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope I stuck the landing. I wasn't (and still am not) very confident in this one; as you can probably tell, action writing is not my strong suit, so if you notice any problems or glaring plot-holes, please let me know. Thank you all again for being patient with me!

 **Next up: Sport**


	8. Sport

**A/N:** Hello! This is a shorter chapter, just to help me get back on my feet after the ordeal of the last two.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Leverage._

* * *

 _ **~Sport~**_

"No."

"But Nate! He doesn't have anywhere else to go!"

"I said: no." Nate turned and stalked to the kitchen.

Parker looked toward Sophie with a pout. Sophie gave her a reproving look, but followed Nate. She walked up to the kitchen's bar as he was pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Nate…" she started.

"No."

"But Parker's right, he doesn't have anywhere else. Do you just want us to leave him where he is?"

Nate nodded and took a sip of his coffee. "Yes, that's exactly what I want. We leave him alone, he leaves us alone, problem solved"

"But he's practically in jail!" Sophie protested. "How would you just like to be left in jail when there are people who could help you?" Nate raised an eyebrow at her and took another sip of his drink. Sophie rolled her eyes. "Ok, bad example. We know how you react to that. But this isn't about that. He hasn't done anything wrong!"

"First off, he's not in jail," Nate reasoned as he walked past her back into the living area. "Second, he's protected, warm, and fed. What else do we have to do?"

"Come on, Nate! Just for a little while," Parker wheedled as Nate came to sit down on the couch again. "How can you say no to that face?" she asked, and pulled up a picture on her phone, shoving it right in Nate's face so he would have to glance at the dark-colored maw staring back at him. Nate pushed the phone out of his face with a grunt.

"We are not adopting a dog, Parker, and that's final."

Parker rolled her eyes, "Well, duh. Of course not. But why can't we just keep him until we find a home for him? It's not his fault his previous owner was a corrupt billionaire. Please, Nate! Pleeeease! Please, pleaseplease! Please. Please. Please, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleeeeeeeee-"

"Alright!" Nate, who had been doing his best to ignore Parker, promptly exploded, if for no other reason than to get her to shut up. "You can keep the dog, but-" Before Nate could even begin his terms and conditions, Parker vaulted over the couch with a squeal of triumph and raced to the door. She opened it and called down the hallway while Nate was still trying to ascertain if her high-volume outbreak had damaged his ears. Quick as lightning, a black and brown bolt shot into the apartment and came right up to Nate, forcing it's muzzle into his face and spilling his coffee.

"Gah!" Nate stood up abruptly to avoid another attack, but the dog was already moving on to other parts of the room, sniffing everywhere. "Parker! Get this thing out of here!"

"But, Nate!" Parker sounded offended. "You said we could keep him!"

"No," the mastermind corrected, "I said _you_ could keep it." The dog had circled all the way around the room, and was now sniffing at Sophie and drooling all over her $900 shoes.

Sophie realized this and gave a startled noise, but to Nate's surprise, she simply patted the German Shepard on the head lightly and said, "Parker, if you wouldn't mind-"

"Oh! Sure," Parker agreed. "Sport! Come here Sport!" Parker called and patted her knees. The big canine abandoned Sophie and dashed to Parker, bowling her over in the process, and Parker lay there on the ground laughing while the dog licked her face.

At this point Hardison and Eliot came in after finishing up some loose ends from the job, and saw Nate looking ruefully at his coffee-stained shirt, Sophie attempting to mop the drool off of her shoes with a paper towel, and Parker rolling around on the floor with a seventy-five pound dog.

"You got Nate to let us keep him?" Hardison asked incredulously. Parker answered: "Yeah!" at the same time Nate said: "No she did not!" Eliot grumbled something about "here we go again" and went to the kitchen, whistling for the dog to follow him.

"Hey!" Parker protested as her playmate left, but quickly turned her attention to Nate. "But you said yes!"

"You never let me finish what I was going to say after I said yes! Now, can I talk?" Parker finally let Nate speak, but crossed her arms and squinted at him skeptically. "You can keep the dog temporarily," Parker's eyes lit up, "but! Only on two conditions. One, I never have to take care of it, and, two, it never stays in my apartment."

"He," Parker muttered under her breath.

"What?"

"He! His name is Sport!"

"You named him?"

"He already had a name!"

"Well, fine!" Nate huffed. "But _he_ is being removed from my apartment _right now_ , and is _not_ coming back."

-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-0o0-

Nate turned the page of his newspaper and ignored the whine that came from near his elbow. He was attempting the cold-shoulder tactic, but so far it was proving unsuccessful.

"Go away," he said, still hiding his face behind the leaves of newsprint. There was another whine, and the sound of a tail thumping against the floor. It quieted after a moment and Nate hazarded a glance to his side, but when his blue eyes met deep brown ones, he hid behind his papery shield again. He heard the dog trot off, and for a second he thought that maybe it had given up, but then the dog came back and he felt something round – _and wet_ – being set on the arm of the chair. Almost afraid to see what it was, Nate looked over and saw a green tennis ball sitting next to him, dripping with drool. Nate's face contorted in disgust, and he rolled up the newspaper so he could push the ball off the chair without having to actually touch it.

As soon as he shoved the ball onto the floor he knew he had made a mistake, as the great beast shot after the it, prancing around it even as it rolled the few feet to a stop.

 _Uh oh._ Nate thought. Now that something had happened, the dog was completely uncontrollable. It danced around the apartment, barking, jumping, and knocking into things. Startled, Nate watched, helpless, for a moment as Sport bumped into the bookshelf and very nearly brought it down. Thinking quickly, Nate grabbed the leash from the counter and called to the ecstatic creature.

"Sport!" he called. "Come here Sport!" He didn't like using the dog's name, usually opting to call him something less personal, but this was an emergency. Hearing his name and seeing the leash, Sport galloped over to Nate and held still just long enough for Nate to clip the leash on, then pulled towards the door with all his might. Nate just managed to snag his keys and phone from the counter before he was pulled out of reach. Once they were across the room, Sport stopped with his pointed nose to the door, quivering with excitement as his heavy tail smacked against Nate's leg. Nate took the opportunity to grab his coat and pull it on before he opened the door and was launched out into the hallway.

Once they were actually outside, Sport was a tiny bit more sedate, but he still pulled Nate along the sidewalk at a considerable pace, nose to the ground, jerking to a stop at every signpost and fire-hydrant. By the time they made it to the park, Nate felt like his arm was about to fall off. Other than that it was going well. The farther they got the calmer Sport was, and soon they were walking along at a reasonable pace. Nate finally had the chance to button his coat against the brisk autumn wind, and he was just pulling out his phone to text Sophie when there was a terrific yank on his arm that nearly pulled him off his feet. His phone popped out of his hand, and he pulled on the leash, trying to get the huge German Shepard to slow down.

"Sport, stop!"

What Nate wasn't expecting was for the dog to obey, and obey so quickly. Sport stopped immediately in front of Nate's legs, which launched the man over the dog's back, and head-first into the body of water in front of him. Ducks scattered everywhere with much wing flapping and dismayed quacking, and Nate came up sputtering, somehow still clinging Sport's leash.

"Thanks," Nate coughed, his teeth beginning to chatter from the chilly water. Sport merely smiled at him, tongue lolling, and barked.

And that's the story of how Nathan Ford, Mastermind, found himself treading water in a duck pond in the middle of October.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading, and please review!

 **Next up: Bunny**


	9. Bunny

**A/N:** I was really excited when I saw this on the prompt list, in fact, it was one of the things that made me decide on that particular list. I love Parker's bunny, it's just one more of those things about her that leaves us wondering: who is she really? And how did she come to be The Thief that we all know and love? I hope this sheds some light on it for you. :) Thank you to every one who has read, reviewed, favorited, and followed, it means a lot. Please R &R!

Disclaimer: I don't own _Leverage._

* * *

 _ **~Bunny~**_

Nobody knew quite where Parker's bunny had come from, or why she guarded it more closely than she did even her priceless gems, but they knew that it was important to her. And for something to be important to Parker, it must be very, _very_ special. Her past was something she guarded fiercely, and that bunny was more a part of her history than anything else. Before Archie found her, before she got caught boosting cars, even before she ran away from the foster homes, she had that rabbit, and she wouldn't ever let anyone take it from her.

It was Nick's, actually. Parker's brother had carried that bunny with him everywhere. It was what he had been holding onto when the social worker had driven up to the daycare and told the boy and his sister that their parents wouldn't be coming back. After that he held onto it no matter what, and he bit more than a few people who tried to get him to put it down.

When Parker and Nick were put in the system they went to their first home together. The foster mom was nice enough (even if she did try to make them eat cabbage), but after less than six months, just as Parker and Nick were beginning to like it there, they were moved. They never found out why. A quick succession of three other homes followed, each as horrible as the last, which they stayed at hardly long enough to mention, but when they came to the fourth home they knew almost immediately that they would be happy. When they got there, the family had made a room up just for them, with a comfy double bed so the siblings could stay together, lots of toys and books, and a big bay window. The family had kids too; a girl who was about four years older than Parker, another one who was just younger than Nick, and a boy in between. The Anderson kids loved to play outside, and they played all sorts of games; freeze-tag and sardines, kick-ball, and the oldest girl, Emily, even taught Parker how to ride a bike. Parker and Nick passed two happy years at that house. They played and laughed, and before long, it felt like home. Nick still held onto his bunny, but that was ok, the Andersons never even mentioned it, anyway.

On the morning of Nick's sixth birthday, Parker decided that it was time for him to learn to ride a bike. All the Andersons were busy, but that was ok with Parker, this was something she wanted to do with just Nick. She pulled out the bike, a blue one with red and orange flames on it, and the morning passed in a happy blur. Parker showed Nick how to sit on the bicycle, taught him how to peddle, and even worked out a way for him to hold onto Bunny while he rode. It was wonderful.

Parker held onto the back of Nick's bike, keeping him upright while he peddled up and down the Andersons' driveway. They were turning back toward the road for almost the tenth time when Parker decided to let go. Her face beamed with sisterly pride as she watched Nick speed down the driveway on his own, and she laughed. Nick looked back at her for a brief second, a smile on his face. But then it all changed so quickly. Parker's pride quickly turned to horror as she saw the car barreling around the corner. She screamed for him to stop, but he was already there.

A horn blared.

Tires squealed.

There was a crash.

And Parker screamed again.

Her knees buckled under her and she fell to the pavement, unable to do anything but let out her fear and anguish and horror in a tormented shriek as she, with unbelieving eyes, watched the car that had hit her brother pull away as if nothing had happened.

The world seemed muffled to her. There was a roar in her ears that drowned out everything else as Mrs. Anderson ran out of the house, and as she yelled at Emily to call 911. Parker stared until her eyes watered, and she screamed until her throat was hoarse. The last thing she saw was Nick's Bunny, hurled almost ten yards from his crooked, outstretched hand, and then the world went black.

The next few days passed in a haze. It seemed like she was stuck in one place while the world whirled around her. Child services came, letting her stay just long enough to go to Nicks funeral, and then they whisked her away, not even letting the Andersons say goodbye. From that time forward, Parker was different. Gone was the girl who smiled and laughed, who always seemed to be able to make the most of a situation, and in her place was a silent, sullen child who clutched at her stuffed rabbit and refused to make eye contact with anyone.

After the Andersons, Parker never stayed at one home more than a few months, either because the family was awful, or because she made trouble. She travelled from home to home, never really caring what she had with her, but always keeping Bunny close. If she lost him, she would lose her last piece of Nick. The last foster home she stayed at was the one where she found out how good of a thief she was. The man there was always angry, and one day, while Parker was hiding like she usually did when he came home, he took Bunny. That was his first mistake. His second mistake was goading her on. Later, when nobody else was around, Parker broke into the man's room and took Bunny back. She took a few other things as well, and was about to leave the house for good when she had a better idea. She was angry at the man. He had taken something from her, so she would take something from him. She blew the house up. It was easier than she expected; the propane sitting in the back yard was practically an open invitation.

Throughout the next years, when her life was changing too quickly for her to keep track of, Bunny was her one constant. He knew more about her than anyone else did, and she would never let him go. Wherever she found to sleep, she always made sure there was a safe place for him to stay while she was out. This paid off when Kelly left her behind and she got caught. She hadn't even seen them coming, but before she could do anything, the police were on her, and they took her to Juvie.

During the six months she was there, she had time to think. Time to think about people and their nature. All her life had been one long succession of people letting her down and leaving. First her parents (even though she could barely remember them) then the early string of foster parents, then Nick, then all the other foster parents, and now Kelly. As she processed this, she came to one conclusion: people were going to disappoint her. Whether it was because of things they couldn't help, like her parents and Nick, or because of selfishness, like everyone else, they were always, _always,_ going to leave her. And they would always, _always,_ let her down. She couldn't trust anyone except herself. Well, herself and Bunny. An inanimate object couldn't really let you down. If you kept it close, it could be as constant as time itself.

All those six long months Parker waited and worried, and thought about trying to get out more than once, but she knew that she couldn't make it out on her own, and if she got caught trying, it would just mean more time before she was out. More time before she could get back to Bunny.

She was finally released from Juvie and was put back in the system, but she got away again almost immediately. The first place she went was to the warehouse where she had hidden Bunny. He was a little musty, and had a few moth-holes, but he was there. Parker held him close and went out the same way she had come in.

Not long after that she met Archie. He taught her and trained her, and for the first time in a very long time she didn't run. She stayed, and she learned, and she liked it. She grew up under his instruction; the world's greatest thief passing on his knowledge to the next generation. Then one day, when he thought she was "finished", he disappeared. He left her a note, telling her not to look for him, and to forge her own path. He didn't say goodbye, and he didn't say he would miss her, he was simply gone. Now it was just her and Bunny again, like it always had been. They travelled the world together, she and Bunny, and she racked up a reputation for herself as the uncatchable, perfect thief. She would go and get her diamonds, or art, or whatever it was she was stealing, and she would take it back to where she had her most precious treasure: Bunny. She had little stashes in every city she visited, and she never stayed in one place long. That is, until she met Nathan Ford. There was something different about him, about the way he – _they_ – helped people. It made her curious.

Her curiosity slowly morphed into something else. So slowly, in fact, that Parker didn't even know when it happened. But somehow, she started to trust these people. _She_ – the perfect thief who didn't need anyone and who relied only upon herself, who knew from experience that to trust people was to set yourself up for a let-down – started to trust them, to need them. This scared her, but she found that it wasn't necessarily a bad scary. She liked it. And, unlike everyone else in her life that had let her down or disappointed her, they didn't. Nate, Sophie, Eliot, and Hardison were different. They stayed. And even if one or two of them went away for a while, they never really _left._

Hardison once asked Parker about her Bunny, why it was that she always took it wherever she went, and what it meant to her. Parker debated telling him about it. Other people had asked her those exact questions, but she had always refused to tell them. Now, as she looked into Alec's eyes, she knew that he deserved an answer. He had proved himself over and over again, and she knew that he would continue to do so. Home, she told him, wasn't a place for her, it was an object, a feeling. What feeling? He asked. Parker didn't even hesitate. A feeling of absolute trust. The knowledge that, no matter what, one thing would always be there. Hardison nodded slowly, gently turning the stuffed animal over in his hands. So she needed Bunny to feel like she was home. He stated. Parker looked from the downcast expression on his face to the well-worn lump of cloth and fabric in his hands. She looked long and hard at the matted fur and moth-holes, the one missing eye and the ragged ears. She looked from that to Hardison's wistful face, and she came to a realization. She took the rabbit from Hardison and set it on the floor. She took his hands and looked up into his eyes. Did she need Bunny to feel home? She asked him, and smiled.

Not anymore.

* * *

 **A/N:** Awwww... Family feels. ^_^ I hope you liked it, and thank you so much for reading!

 **Next up: Little Birds**


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